


Can't Be Saved

by Reylinne



Category: Harringrove - Fandom, Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Billy Hargrove has a man bun, Explicit Language, Gay, Harringrove, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, LMAO, M/M, Modern Era, Mutual Pining, Not tagging as mature because of language sorry lmao, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Quote: "When are we gonna do something about this unspoken thing between us?" "What unspoken thing?", References to Depression, Slow Burn, These boys gay, These boys have cellphones, They gonna be boyfriends, actually it's not so slow burn, and a tongue piercing, modern!AU, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-05-28 19:57:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15056648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reylinne/pseuds/Reylinne
Summary: Modern Harringrove AU.It's not that Steve Harrington stalks Billy Hargrove on social media. It's not. Not at all in fact. But he definitely does notice every single time that he posts something. But he definitely doesn’t stalk him. Coincidence is what it is, honestly.Some rough/general appearance ref for the boys:hereandhere (this one is way better lmao)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *trigger warning*  
> Self harm mention, attempted suicide mention

“It's okay, Billy, really...it's fine. I promise, it's-”

“No, it's not okay. It's not fucking okay, Steve,” Billy runs a hand through his thick hair, tangling his fingers at the root and pinching the bridge of his nose. “It's never been _fucking okay_.”

Steve hesitates, reaching out to the other boy. “Billy, will you just listen to me for a second?”

Billy whirls around in response, gaze unbreaking as he knocks Steve's arm away. “Stop.” His voice is shaky, the word so firm. So final.

Steve starts to speak again but the sounds are caught in his throat at the sight of Billy's wet eyes.

“I can't be saved, Steve. I can't-”

Steve feels his bottom lip start to quiver as he watches any and all emotion slowly fade from Billy's eyes. The light he'd seen there is dimming, the lust for life draining. “Billy, please, come back to me, I need-”

Billy chokes on a sob, doubling over in anguish. “Steve,” he cries out, hand clenched over his chest as if he was trying to anchor his nails into his heart, to try to hold onto a piece of integrity - to hold onto Steve.

The brunette is shaking his head, taking tiny step after tiny step closer to Billy, who is teetering too near the edge of the quarry. He's unsure of how to handle the situation, unsure whether he should try to embrace him or if it's better to let him have it out with himself.

But what if he really goes through with it this time? What if he -

Steve's eyes flick back and forth between Billy's hollow baby blues and his wrists, tethered from months of self-harming and mutilation. The poor boy had just gotten out of the hospital, for fuck’s sake, for swallowing all of the contents of his step-mother’s pill bottle - whatever was in there - and here he was trying to finish what he'd started. Steve would be lying to himself if he'd said it wasn't exhausting both mentally and physically to be here with Billy after having essentially the exact same scare mere hours earlier. But more than that, he was petrified. Terrified to lose Billy for real this  time.

Billy hovers his foot above the empty air, the gigantic drop below him inviting either the harsh stone floor or a watery grave depending on how far he could make it out. “Steve I...I just want you to know that you've been everything to me,” he whispers, mumbles so quietly he can hardly hear himself. He turns slightly, throwing a glance back over his shoulder. “I-I love you so much, I always have...since the moment I saw you. So pretty. My pretty boy.” He starts to reach his fingers out but retracts, placing them against his lips first before holding them out a little bit farther to Steve.

And Steve’s heart sinks. Breaks. Billy’s hand, extended out towards Steve like a lifeline, it idles there for a moment. Steve feels like he’s watching his life unfold in front of him from a bystander’s eyes - a ghost in the distance - having no control over his body as he lunges towards Billy. He tries to capture him, tries to envelope his arms around him, but the blond boy is too quick for him. He turns back around to the void and snatches his hand away, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. And before Steve can react, Billy is out of his grasp.

 

* * *

 

It's not that he stalks Billy Hargrove on social media. It's not. Not at all in fact. But he definitely does notice every single time that he posts something. But he definitely doesn’t stalk him. Coincidence is what it is, honestly.

They aren't friends. Not even Facebook friends, and Billy doesn't follow him back on anything. Because they aren’t friends. Steve doesn't ever engage, doesn't like his Instagram posts, doesn't comment. He views his Snapchat stories, and he knows Billy can see that he does, but all of Hawkins views Billy Hargrove's snapchat stories.

Hopper, the _chief of police_ views Billy Hargrove's snapchat stories. He once showed Steve one of them, laughing at a video Billy had posted while drunk at some party. It was almost as if it wasn't his job to go break up said party and give every single person at said fucking party underage drinking citations. But he was just amused by it. Everyone was so infatuated with the golden boy from California.

“Teenagers will be teenagers. I'd like to think I was there not so long ago myself,” he'd said, shrugging and planting his dirty boots on the park table as he sat there with Steve one night during winter vacation. Just planted  his stupid feet right next to Steve’s hands as he watched shirtless Billy chugging a bottle of strawberry Moscato while sporting the stupid dog filter on his cell phone screen. It was night time, late at night, really, but the kids were sledding under the glow of the streetlights and the moon, and Hopper had brought Steve along as a buffer because he didn't know how to deal with so many children at once. Steve ignored his stupid nostalgic remark, scoffing at the fact that Hopper sat on his phone more often than he did.

But Steve knew what the chief had been watching because he'd already seen it, seen it barely a few minutes after Billy had posted it. But it’s not like he stalks him on social media. Of course not.

 

Steve practically jumps out of his skin when he feels hands on his shoulders.

“Fuck,” he grumbles, immediately planting his phone screen-down on his pant leg.

Dustin gives him a weird look, raising a suspicious eyebrow at Steve’s strange response. “A little spooked there, Steve-o, huh?” He tosses a controller on Steve’s lap, eyes darting from the very obviously hidden phone and Steve’s nonchalant expression.

“No, not really.”

“Whatcha looking at?”

Steve smiles awkwardly. “I’m not-”

“Do you have a crush on someone?”

Steve’s jaw opens and he reaches a hand up to play with his bangs nervously. “N-not at all, I’m just on edge. That’s it,”

Dustin plops down on a chair adjacent to the couch and turns on his PlayStation. “Riiiiiiight,” he says, putting on a Resident Evil game.

Steve groans. “Can’t we play something else?”

“No!” Dustin shouts. “You should have brought your own console, then we could play something else,”

“I’m sorry I don’t always want to fucking lug around my PS4, Jesus,”

“And I’m sorry they don’t make good local co-op games anymore!” Dustin digs his hands into the bag of Doritos on the end table between the couch and recliner.

After progressing through a few chapters of story mode co-op, Dustin pauses the game and abruptly throws his controller down.

“What’s your problem?” Steve says, furrowing his brow at the younger boy and his random outburst.

Dustin balls up his fists and looks unnecessarily angry. “If you don’t text her, I’m gonna!”

“Text _who!_?”

“The girl you’re crushing on!”

Running a hand through his hair, Steve takes a deep breath and raises his index finger towards Dustin. “First of all, fuck you,” Dustin snorts, unable to take Steve seriously. “Second, I’m not texting anyone. I don’t have a crush on anyone. Third, it’s literally none of your business at all if I-”

Dustin ignores him, scooping Steve’s cell phone from the cushion next to him. “Ooh, you have a code. I bet it’s your birthday,”

“Really? Do you think I’m-”

“Got it,” Dustin grins. “You think I wouldn’t guess 1234? Loser.”

Steve stands up, stomping towards the fleeing middle schooler. “Give me that back, dipshit!”

The curly haired boy dodges his swing. “Ooh, you’ve got Instagram open, huh?”

Steve’s life flashes before his eyes as he watches the little red hearts pop up as Dustin scrolls through his feed, liking random people’s photos like a maniac. “No! Stop! Ohmygod, Dustin, stop liking shit! No!”

“Fine fine, here,” Dustin hands it over, wheezing from laughter. “They’re gonna think you’re _so weird!”_

Steve shoots him a death glare, eyes forming daggers as he snatches the cell phone from him. “Honestly, fuck you, that’s terrible,”

“At least they’re all recent and not from 2 years ago.”

“I’m gonna do that to you. I’m gonna go back and like Max’s first photos while you sleep, bitch,”

“Noooo!” Dustin giggles, picking up the controller.

 

“There it is,” Steve says monotonously, completely alone in his house. He’s sprawled out on his bed, kicking his feet in the air, staring at the follow request. It’s taunting him. “Yep...right there.” He repeats to no one but himself.

_1 New Follow Request - hxrgrxve_

Truth be told, Steve doesn’t really post a whole lot on social media. He basically uses it as a personal scrapbook and to have an account so he can look at everyone else’s shit. He’s got a measly 67 followers compared to Billy’s 9832 followers, and he really isn’t bothered. He’s got the kids, he’s got …

Well, that’s about all he’s got. And a few random people from school but it’s not anyone important. Also he’s got at least 30 spam accounts following him.

“Do I accept it?” Steve rolls over onto his back, staring at the tiny words on his screen. Right next to it, Billy’s icon - a disgustingly beautiful selfie with hair that would make any girl at Hawkins High School jealous all strewn about around his face - just sitting there taunting him. Taunting him and his 67 followers and the no contact rule Steve had for himself that Dustin had broken. He taps on the username, _hxrgrxve_ , which for whatever reason causes his heart to skip a beat each time he sees it. The little red heart underneath Billy’s most recent photo makes Steve’s dinner stir around in his stomach. Naturally - completely coincidentally and not at all because he was studying every inch of the photo - Steve’s brown eyes land on a peculiar rubber band bracelet that is always right in the same spot on Billy’s wrist.

Billy almost never wears anything but hoodies and long sleeve shirts, save for phy-ed class. Steve has always chalked it up to him being from California. Assumed that the unusually not-so-harsh Indiana winter they had this past year was still too much for Billy the west coast boy. But it would be ignorant to say that Steve had never seen Billy’s bracelet. Steve thinks it’s rather bizarre for a nearly eighteen year old man would wear a pink rubber band bracelet.

Billy was a dick - absolutely no doubt about it, and he hated Steve with a passion for reasons unbeknownst to him - but Steve couldn't help but be drawn to the other boy. He was so flamboyant and beautiful with his sun-kissed skin and his luscious golden curls draping down past his shoulders and his long eyelashes. So many quirks, unique things Billy wore or the way he acted that seemed so foreign to everyone in small-town Indiana - the lingo Billy used in everyday speech and the way he reacted to everything was so fresh because new people just _don’t_ come to Hawkins. Ever.

It was comical to listen to the other kids at school respond to Billy’s presence, to try to act like life in this little town was so interesting and to try to act cool and experienced. But the truth was that everyone here had been a lifer. And being a lifer in this small minded town was one of Steve’s worst fears.

He blinks a few times, staring at his phone screen.

_1 New Follow Request - hxrgrxve_

He taps _deny_.

 

Tina's post spring-break bash is tonight and Steve really can't wait. He's been doing nothing but hanging out with kids for what feels like months, what _is_ months, sitting at home endlessly scrolling through everyone's drama on Facebook as if he were actually interested.

He doesn't really feel like hanging out with Nancy or Jonathan, so he tries to avoid them as he stands around by himself.

Steve rots in the kitchen next to the punch bowl, sipping from the only glass he's had the entire night. He still has to drive home yet tonight, and he figures the longer he has this specific _one_ glass of punch, the easier he can convince anyone who asks that it's his third or fourth.

After everyone eventually stops coming in and out of the kitchen, he notices that they're all surrounding each other in a circle. Arching an eyebrow, he leaves his lonesome perch and heads to see what all the commotion is about. He spots Nancy, who quickly waves him over.

“Come on, Steve, we're playing spin the bottle,” her words are slurred slightly, her demeanor loose. She’s kneeling next to Jonathan, who’s drinking a glass of what Steve assumes is the off-brand cola he’d seen sitting next to the bottle of coconut Malibu on the kitchen counter.

Steve watches anxiously as the bottle spins and lands, spins and lands. He watches as friends and acquaintances alike are paired up, exchanging kisses like it was nobody's business. Steve isn't in the actual circle, but eventually as more and more people leave to go do God knows what, he eventually can see what all is going on.

He's surprised to see Jonathan letting Nancy play, he barely even cringes as his girlfriend kisses two of Steve's teammates on the baseball team and Carol. Steve watches Tina make out with Donny from his Finance class, sees Mitchell peck Amber's lips, and cringes as girl after girl screech in excitement as their spin lands on Billy.

And Billy delivers.

Every time.

Steve gets a hollow feeling in his gut as he watches Billy's eyes light up, running his tongue across his teeth and smirking wolfishly as he leans across the open space almost as if he was rewarding everyone who managed to land their bottle facing him.

And then suddenly, all eyes were on him.

“Your turn,” Tina speaks finally after what feels like an entire century of silence. Steve's glare falls down to his phone, not even noticing that she was talking to him.

“Are you playing or not?” Someone else says, tapping Steve's leg.

“W-what? Oh, uh, yeah, sorry, I wasn't paying attention I guess,” Steve mumbles, clumsily reaching for the bottle. He gives it what feels like a hard spin, but it barely spins three-quarters of the way around. It lands on Suzy from his Biology class, but they agree to let him have another spin because of the lack of momentum.

Steve feels himself eyeing the bottle, stomach contents churning around as if it were a life or death situation. When it starts to slow, finally stopping, his eyes drift upward. He takes in crossed legs, sporting Adidas and ripped jeans and inhales deeply as he realises who they're attached to.

“Ooh, Harrington,” Billy grins, blond curls hanging down on his forehead.

Steve feels like he's going to throw up. Can he go back to Suzy please? He can't kiss another boy in front of all of these people. He especially cannot kiss _Billy_. His heart is beating at 10000 BPM and his body temperature has risen to 350°F. His eyes dart between his cell phone and Billy, who's got his hands on his knees, looking like he's expecting Steve to come to him and kiss him. Like it’s no big deal.

Every single pair of eyes in the room is on him, they're all expecting him to fucking kiss fucking Billy on the fucking lips and he wants to fucking disappear.

But it's not a big deal, right? No way, everyone else has been doing it. Hell, Nancy kissed Carol. It's fine. It's just a kiss. Nothing new.

“Harrington, are you gonna be a wimp? C’mon. Gimme a kiss, King Steve,” Billy's patting the floor out in front of him like he’s calling a puppy over.

“Steve's tapping out! Booooo!” Tommy, as fucking annoying as ever, is drunkenly shouting from behind Billy somewhere. Steve can't see any of the people in the room at this point, the boos and mocks flooding his ears but his eyes can only see Billy and the impatience on his face.

“Okay fine, I'll go then,” Billy shrugs, reaching for the bottle. Steve quickly reacts, his hand shooting down and grabs the bottle first, preventing Billy from spinning it. Billy's eyes are even more gorgeous up close - baby blue with flecks of green and gold. It's not that he hasn't been close to Billy before but he's never really been _this close._ Studying him, ingesting every detail of his face. He takes note of a couple of freckles he has scattered on his cheeks, a little bit of stubble he clearly tries to shave off every day, and some damn fine eyelashes.

Steve takes a deep breath before he crawls a little closer, one knee extended out towards the other boy. Billy grabs his shirt collar and pulls him in before he can even properly prepare himself. Their faces collide with force, and Billy laughs into their kiss. Steve starts to pull away almost immediately after contact, but people start screaming and clapping. He feels surrounded by aliens, by ferocious fans at a coliseum waiting for a show. Apparently, the crowd’s cheers have ignited something in Billy, because he chases Steve, doesn't let him escape.

Billy ever so rudely invites his tongue into Steve's mouth and Steve's eyes pop open at the sensation and taste of metal. It _definitely_ shouldn't surprise him that Billy's tongue is pierced, but it startles him nonetheless. When Billy pulls away, the stud clinks against Steve's hungry teeth and their lips parting creates a noise that Steve usually hates with a passion but for some reason has him feeling ravenous. Filthy.

“Ooh, baby. Looks like you got some fire in you, after all!” Billy's wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his sweater as if Steve had cooties, as if he hadn't just previously kissed half of Hawkins in this stupid game, as if they were clean and Steve wasn't and it shouldn't piss Steve off but it definitely does.

“That was hot,” Tina mumbles behind the group somewhere, and he can hear many a voice discussing it.

Why?

He didn't remember anyone else talking about a single other kiss other than the occasional laugh or applause.

Probably because everyone knows how much Billy hates Steve.

He feels a hand on his shoulder. It's Jonathan. “Yikes, that took guts,” he laughs.

“Yeah, hopefully everyone is drunk enough to forget it.” Steve smiles. “Would you mind grabbing me another glass?” He holds out his cup.

“How many have you had? Are you driving?”

Steve cackles. “This is my first one, I've had it for like two hours. And now I really need a fucking second.”

 

Steve ends up kissing five more people before the game fizzles out. Billy had left a few turns ago with someone, Tommy went to go throw up, and Nancy and Jonathan haven't been playing since before Steve's first turn. He finally decides to retire from the dying party a little after three in the morning, and when he gets home, can't decide if he had a good night or if he wishes he'd never went at all.

  


Come Monday, everybody is staring at Steve. He feels uncomfortable about it, disturbed,  hearing the snickers from across the classroom, seeing people turn away as they see him to gossip to the person next to them.

Having enough of it by the time third hour rolls around, he pulls out his phone and opens the group chat he has with Nancy and Jonathan that he more-often-than-not ignores.

Steve: Wtf is up with everyone. They’re staring at me or maybe I’m just self-conscious lol

Nancy: U didn’t see it?

Steve: It? What’s it?

Jonathan: lmfao, oh god

Nancy: U friends w Tina on fb?

Steve feels his heart drop into his stomach as he opens the Facebook app, searching Tina’s name. He feels his breakfast itching to come back out of him when he sees a video from the night of the party. The bitch had live streamed their game of spin the bottle. His thumb hovers over the video, automatically playing with no sound on. He quickly looks around to make sure that no one is watching him on his phone, that no one could see _what_ he was watching.

The video picks up a little after the bottle had landed pointing at Billy, so clearly Tina had seen a great opportunity to record probably the most embarrassing moment of Steve’s life. He watches from the sidelines as Billy crawls out on his hands and knees towards him, patting the ground like a hungry animal.

Shit. Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

His eyes drift down to the view count. His head feels like a spinning top, adam’s apple shifting, lungs collapsing. 83,917 views. 83,918. 83,919.

_“Harrington, are you gonna be a wimp? C’mon. Gimme a kiss, King Steve,”_

And Steve looks so goddamn _awkward_. He’s sitting there like a child who doesn’t understand their math homework, eyes darting everywhere except for the other boy in front of him. The blond starts to grab the bottle then, but Steve had stopped him. He can hear people’s comments that he hadn’t heard at the time, hooting and hollering and dropping kissy noises and inappropriate gay jokes.

He quickly slams his phone screen down, unable to watch. Taking a deep breath, he lets his head fall into his  hands. No wonder everyone was staring at him. Steve would probably stare at the poor victim of the embarrassing video too, provided it was literally anybody else. He dreads baseball practice after school more than anything.

 

As if he didn't know it would happen. Billy is being a jerk to him like he always is, but this time, so is literally everyone else. Steve doesn't get it - why is everyone calling him names when the kiss was completely two-sided? Billy had shoved his tongue half down Steve's throat for fuck’s sake. And he _still_ doesn’t understand why this was such a big deal versus anyone else kissing at the party.

Billy can play any position because he's Billy and he's the most athletic person in Hawkins. Steve watches him, tying his hair back in a messy half ponytail. He looks good in anything, really and it’s ridiculously unfair. It’s bullshit. He wears his uniform different than most people - pants rolled up and knee high socks with a skin tight long sleeved shirt under the short sleeved jersey. And Steve wants so badly to hate it, to think it looks terrible. But terrible is opposite the truth. He studies Billy's posture, straight as a board. He wonders if he's tense or if he's just really stands up that tall.

_Stop fucking staring, you dick._

Billy manages to accidentally hit Steve with the bat while he's catching for him, and  honestly, Steve isn't entirely convinced that it was unintentional. He also pitches the ball at Steve's arm when they shift positions, and to top it off, he dumps his entire bottle of Blue Powerade on top of Steve's head at the end of practice.

Steve says nothing, lets Billy and his friends have a laugh as they retreat inside the school to hit the locker room. He follows suit, heading in and waiting patiently for his turn.

Despite being overly cocky and confident, Billy usually just leaves without rinsing off, saying he’ll shower at home practically every day as if to make sure everyone knows he actually does take a shower, and today is no different. He doesn't even change out of his uniform. Steve eyes him, debating on trying to have a chat.

Steve approaches the blond boy, who’s leaning taut up against the tiled wall with his cinch bag across his shoulder. “Hey,” Plainly.

Billy stops speaking mid-word and shoots him probably the most uninterested look Steve has ever seen. “What the fuck do you want?”

Steve feels the words piece his eardrums. “Uh, can I talk to you for a second?”

Billy doesn't even consider him for even a single moment. “No,” he says, immediately turning his attention back to his conversation with another teammate.

Steve takes a heavy breath, trying to amp himself up with some courage before tapping Billy on the shoulder.

“Fucking what, Harrington?!” He shouts unnecessarily loudly at Steve, whipping his phone out of his back pocket and starting to furiously type with his thumbs.

Steve is angry that Billy won't even look at him. “I said, can we talk?”

Billy's focus remains on his screen instead of Steve. “And I said fucking no.” He looks up finally, expression twisted in anger.

“Fine, how about a _we need to talk_ instead?” He grabs Billy's wrist and yanks the boy away from their teammate. Steve isn't a moron, he knows he'd never be able to pull Billy's weight if he hadn't let him do so. Billy clearly wanted to talk.

“What is wrong with you, freak?” Billy unfurls his jean jacket, which he'd been holding underneath his left arm. Steve admires it, perfectly faded. Almost an art form, to be honest.

“Have you seen it?”

Billy ignores him, slipping his thick arms into the sleeves.

“The video, Billy.”

Billy snickers. His nose bunches up when he laughs, and Steve hates that it makes him feel weird watching it. “'Course I seen it, Harrington,” he says, eyes lingering a little lower than expected, purposely not meeting Steve’s.

“Uh...okay, so…?” Steve shifts his stance awkwardly as Billy raises his phone up, most likely taking a selfie. Steve watches him as he does so, propping his tongue up just under his top teeth. His lips are parted just a tiny bit, and he raises one eyebrow at the camera. He abruptly drops all expression on his face when he looks back at Steve. “What?”

Steve shoves his hands in his pockets and starts to take his leave. This is completely useless. “Jesus,” he grumbles.

Billy calls out back at him. “In case you hadn't noticed, Stevie, most of the time when you play games like that,” he pulls the purple scrunchie out of his hair, wrapping it around his sleeved wrist, “you don't make out in front of everyone. It's usually a peck. That's all.”

The smug look on Billy's face makes Steve's fingers curl up, desperate to collide his fist with Billy’s pretty nose. “What is that supposed to mean?” he barks, fury flowing through his veins. Always gotta be an asshole. Always. Maybe nobody was making fun of Billy for it, but _everyone_ was making fun of Steve for it. So naturally, it didn’t affect Billy, so he doesn’t give a fuck. _Obviously_.

Billy laughs mockingly before glancing around. He leans forward, smacking cinnamon gum loudly in Steve's face. “Baby, you were all over this,” he sticks his tongue out, the pearlescent metal ball bracing itself brightly against his blindingly white teeth.

A wildfire spreads throughout Steve's body, and he purses his lips. “I fucking was not-”

Billy shakes his head, his loose curls waving around below his jawline. “Uh uh uh, Harrington. I know better,” He suddenly shoves Steve with great force, taking him by surprise as his back slams into the lockers behind him. “You think just everybody I kiss gets to taste it?” He clinks the jewelry one last time against his teeth and gives Steve the dictionary definition of a douchebag grin. “By the way, thanks for denying my follow request.”

And with that, he walks away. Steve can't believe this guy. He stretches his back, sore spots where his back had been stabbed by the combination locks on the lockers. Billy doesn't even look back at him, he just stands there, leaning up against the door frame probably not even listening to whatever bullshit Tommy was going on about.

Fuck.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve suffers through repetitive gay jokes for the next few weeks until finally the ridiculous viral hype for his kiss with Billy dies down. And ‘dying down’ is putting it very mildly. Because it's  _ definitely _ still very much alive. 

He keeps receiving friend requests from random people, strange messages from outsiders who have seen the unfortunate video of the two boys locking lips in what the internet has dubbed “Awkward nerd gets tongue fucked by hot hipster".

_ Why me? _

 

Steve is wandering around the school during passing time, reluctant to go to the class where he belongs because it’s mixed grades and full of acne-covered greasy freshmen boys who think they're funny asking a senior if he'll give them head. Girls from the sophomore class asking if Billy is good in bed. Juniors pleading for him to invite them to a party because maybe, just maybe, Billy will kiss them too. Because kissed Steve, right? What could be worse than that?

He finds his way down by the auto shop area of the tech-ed and machining wing, which, despite being small with loud noises coming from the shops, is actually one of the most solitary parts of the school. As he rounds the corner, he nearly smacks into none other than “hot hipster” Billy, standing at a locker with his head hidden behind the door. He doesn't even have to question who it is because Billy's wild curls spilling out all over is a dead giveaway. Billy is  shuffling about, most likely changing out textbooks because he insists on using a tiny little tie-dye cinch bag that holds approximately one notebook and nothing else. Steve doesn't understand why he'd want to have to carry all of his shit around in his hands in favor of what, looking cool?

_ Cool with your little bag? Stupid _ .

Well, that says a lot about Billy as a person, sacrificing punctuality for appearance.

Steve has a mini crisis, trying to decide whether to approach or not. He’s managed to ignore Billy and all of the bullshit he and his friends have been pulling for a decent amount of time, and he isn’t sure if he’s ready to get another berating just yet. Shrugging to himself (because really, what else could he lose?), he advances like a cougar targeting prey.

_ Actually _ ... it’s more like a sheep headed into a lion’s den.

“Didn't know anyone had a locker down here,”

Billy jumps slightly at the sound of his voice, clearly not expecting anyone, didn't hear his footsteps due to the noisy classroom right next to his locker. “Jesus,  _ fuck _ , Harrington,” he grumbles and starts to slam the metal door shut but stops, reaching in for a little pot of what Steve assumes to be lip balm. “In case you hadn't noticed, I moved here in the middle of senior year. All the good lockers were taken.” And his expression is typical from every single conversation the two have ever had - bored and bothered.

Steve watches Billy as he dips his ringed pinky finger into the little blue cup of lip balm, scoops a small amount out and drags it a bit too sensually first across his bottom lip and then the top. Billy is staring directly into his soul as he does this, most likely trying to get a reaction out of Steve.

“Does that work?” Steve asks, referring to the lip balm.

“Duh wuh wor?” Billy mumbles, taking his sweet ass time applying that shit. Ugh.

Steve reaches out as Billy once again starts to aggressively close his locker, sacrificing his hand to be crushed in order to see inside. “What's this?” He forces it back open, despite slight protest from the blond. He eyes a bunch of photos taped sloppily to the inside of Billy's locker, most notably a giant printed out picture of Harry Styles. “Never pegged you for a One Direction kinda guy,” he gestures to Billy's faded Scorpions shirt he's sporting over top of a hoodie. 

_ Honestly, name one other person on the planet who would look good wearing that? Can’t, can ya Steve? _

The other boy is sighing heavily before Steve even finishes his sentence. “Don't fucking test me, Harrington.” Billy gives him a hostile stare, leaning up against the locker next to his with his elbow and tracing his fingers across the paper. “Harry Styles is a blessing upon this Earth.”

Was that...does Billy  _ actually _ like guys?

“You like his music or…?”

This time, Billy succeeds in closing the door with such force it shakes the lock, a harsh metallic sound assaulting Steve's eardrums. “God, you are  _ annoying _ ,” he rolls his eyes and pushes past Steve, slinging his bag over his shoulder. Steve stands there like a moron before clumsily chasing after Billy like a puppy. 

“Billy,”

“What are you followin’ me for, Harrington?” Billy says monotonously, still facing forward and quickening his pace a little to avoid Steve.

“I just want to-”

Billy stops and turns around to look at Steve, who runs into him. Billy steps back a little bit, holding his hands up in defense. That's embarrassing. “Look, I get that you are upset about getting made fun of or whatever, but you gotta fuck off. We aren't friends. I don't want to talk to you. For  _ fuck’s sake _ ,” Billy sticks his fingers against Steve's chest, pushes him back slightly as he turns and leaves. Again.

And Steve watches him walk away, heading down the hallway with that signature strut of his, jeans tightly hugging his ass in all the right places, hair bouncing around playfully atop his sweatshirt hood and bright white Adidas nearly blinding.

So what  _ if _ Billy is into dudes? Shouldn’t he be the one who is getting bullied then?

Wait, no. What? Steve cannot believe he just had that thought. No one should get bullied. Especially for being into guys. Because...well, Steve is kind of into guys. Right? Right. Probably. Or maybe it’s just Billy.

He’s definitely into Billy.

No point in denying that.

There probably isn’t a single person, no matter their gender identity in this school who  _ isn’t _ into Billy.

Steve opens the Twitter app on his phone, an account he keeps private and doesn’t let anyone follow. He uses it almost childishly in place of a diary, he looks back on all of his tweets to see what he was doing and when, what his thoughts were during certain times. He inhales and furiously types.

New tweet.

_ Damn, this boy looks like he was sculpted by the fucking gods. _

New tweet.

_ Mission initiated: Infiltrate. _

  
  
  


“Steve?” Dustin tries to peer over Steve's shoulder, but is unsuccessful in doing so. Upon hearing his voice, Steve nearly throws his phone in shock. “What's wrong with you? What are you doing, dude? Would you stop creeping on me?”

He definitely had not been staring at Billy's shirtless selfie posted twenty three minutes ago, thumb hovering over it, and he _ definitely _ was not debating on liking the photo. Not on purpose. Never.

“Just scrolling, nothing. What's up?” Steve attempts to shrug Dustin off, but he's obviously unamused. 

“Well, you're at my house, we're supposed to be playing Fortnite, I literally brought my mom's TV in here and you brought your PS4 and -”

“Yeah yeah, I get it, Jesus,” Steve grumbles as he picks up the controller. They join a match with Lucas and Steve blows it. He's glad that they're not playing a cooperative team game because at least right now he's only embarrassing himself and not the kids.

“Steve, you suck, where's your head at, brother?” Lucas calls out into their headsets.

Steve rolls his brown eyes, ignoring Dustin's jests as well. His head is spinning at a million miles per hour, all screwy, as if his brain is scrambled eggs. Stupid stupid stupid.

When Steve is packing up his Playstation,  Dustin sits next to him. “So...are you going to tell me what's going on? Or do I have to keep guessing and talking smack about you behind your back?”

Playing tennis with his own mental state for what feels like a solid 45 minutes, Steve decides to test the waters instead of barging in head first with Dustin. Because after all, he’s still way younger than Steve and he really doesn’t want to have to explain himself too much.

Soooooo he’s going to throw Billy under the bus instead.

“I think Max’s brother is gay.”

“Billy? Whaaaaat?”

“Yeah,” Steve whispers, as if someone is going to hear him that he doesn’t want to hear him. If anything, Dustin’s mom would be the only one and she’s probably napping in the other room or watching General Hospital. 

“Are you just figuring that out?”

“I think that he - wait, what?”

“You’re  _ just now _ realising that Billy is gay?”

Steve feels like he’s completely out of the program here. “Is he really?” He asks, and he feels like kicking himself after hearing how excited he sounds. There's no way Dustin didn't hear it too.

Dustin stares at him blankly for a moment before bursting out laughing. “No, I don’t know. I was just joking. Do you think I know anything about him? Jesus, Steve, the guy’s an asshole. Total douchebag. I don’t ever talk to him.”

“Uh...oh, okay…” Steve wants nothing more than to slap himself, slam his head against the wall, or better yet, stab forks into his eyes.

Well, maybe that’s a little excessive.

“Why are we talking about Billy the dick again?” Dustin asks, tossing his headset in a basket next to the tv. “Is it because you made out with him?”

The comment isn't really too random, but it still feels like it's come from left field and Steve still feels like he’s just swallowed a handful of nails. “W-what?”

Dustin puts a hand on his hip. “Steve. Come on. I’ve seen the video.”

“You fucking watched the-”

“Of course. Everyone’s seen ‘Awkward nerd gets tongue fucked by hot hipster’.”

“Don’t you  _ ever _ say those words to me ever fucking again Dustin or I swear to God-”

Dustin cackles. “What? I’m not like, lying to you or anything bro. A couple pages I follow on Facebook keep sharing edits of it.”

Nausea. Heartburn. Indigestion. 

“ _ Edits _ of it!?” Steve is most certainly screeching like a little girl.

“Duh. That’s what people do with viral videos.”

Steve’s hands fly up to his face, traumatized. Great. So not only did the video go viral on Tina’s facebook profile, but actual random people were now making memes out of Steve’s humiliation. Hilarious.

Steve starts to laugh, and it feels like he’s a ghost floating above himself, watching down. He can’t help it - he busts out in hysterics, chortling a deep belly laugh that has Dustin wheezing as well. He wants to rip his hair out of his skull, but first, he clearly needs a good fucking laugh because what are the fucking odds that not only is he in a fucking viral video but it’s a video where he’s fucking making out with fucking Billy Hargrove.

Dustin wipes a tear from the corner of his eye. “Yeah, wow, that’s pretty comical.”

“Eat shit.” Steve abruptly stands up, grabbing his car keys, his wallet, and his phone and heading out to his BMW.

“What did I do!?” Dustin calls out to him.

 

He actually opened the Snapchat.

He didn’t respond, but Billy  _ actually _ opened the Snapchat message that Steve had sent him.

And it’s not like he  _ expected _ him to respond, because he’s Steve and Billy is Billy and Billy hates Steve, but he definitely didn’t expect him to even open it.

The little ‘pop’ noise that snapchat makes when you get a notification triggers Steve for the entire rest of the night, always ending up to be some stupid group chat message or a selfie from a random girl from his physics class or something.

Until finally, at 2:36 am while Steve is browsing Tumblr in bed, he gets  _ the _ notification. A snapchat. From Billy.

Steve drops his phone onto his face, reels for a moment, and then quickly opens the app. He stares at the little pink ghost, a picture from Billy Hargrove (who doesn't even follow him back). His thumb idles above it, and he's unsure if he actually wants to open it or not. 

_ Fuck. Why not? Stop being a little bitch. _

Steve definitely did not know what to expect from the picture. It's a selfie. Billy is also in bed, shirtless. The light from his phone screen flash highlights all the shapes of his face, accents his blue eyes. Billy Hargrove is the master of the selfie art - he can make even something so simple look so  _ fucking hot _ . The way he has the phone angled just slightly looks almost like he's  _ trying _ to show Steve that he's shirtless. 

Or maybe the 100+ other people he’s sent this to.

_ Snapchat: from hxrgrxve _

Oh shit.

Shiiiiit.

Steve opens this one a little too quickly. He feels an embarrassing lightheadedness spread throughout his brain, this time, because Billy is now pouting with a caption. A caption that definitely did not go to 100+ other people.

_ “harrington, i know ur awake. snap me baaccckkk” _

He's only snapping Steve. Steve is completely unprepared for this, he can't possibly snap Billy back when he looks this way. Having three chins in bed, wearing the same Dr. Pepper shirt from Kohl's that everyone had in middle school, eyes probably red from endlessly scrolling in the dark.

Steve takes a blank picture of his dark ceiling. “ _ You got me ig” _

Breathing his first breath in the last ten minutes, Steve frantically shoots out of bed and rips off his shirt,  fluffs his hair in the mirror. He can hear his phone going off, and every little pop sound is just making Steve more shaky. Why the fuck is Billy just snapping him making him so nervous? Ridiculous. 

_ Snapchat: from hxrgrxve _

_ Snapchat: from hxrgrxve _

_ Snapchat: from hxrgrxve _

_ Snapchat: from hxrgrxve _

_ “awh harrington baby why u sendin me that blank shit???” “wanna see ur pretty face” “cum on, stevie" “im lonely, let lemme see u ❤” _

Steve's eyes are about ready to pop out of his head. Each snap from Billy is a different selfie. Different is almost an incorrect term, because every single one of the pictures of Billy all sort look the same. But Steve can see the tiny changes in each one - a little more of a smirk, then showing a few more teeth in his grand smile, a peek of his nipple in frame, a brow raised.

Eyes darting up to the mirror in front of him, Steve stands motionless for a second, clutching his phone so hard his fingers are turning white. 

_ What type of picture do I send back? _

Mental anguish ensues. 

_ Snapchat: from hxrgrxve _

_ Snapchat: from hxrgrxve _

_ Snapchat: from hxrgrxve _

_ Snapchat: from hxrgrxve _

_ Snapchat: from hxrgrxve _

_ Snapchat: from hxrgrxve _

The brunette is practically unable to react in between Billy's snaps. Pictures of the beautiful blond boy with, quite frankly, very thirsty captions. The last one is a video, and he views it eagerly.

 Billy sits up in his bed, his curls fierce and uncontrolled. Steve feels his heart skip when Billy's phone drops a little too low, casually informing Steve either intentionally or unintentionally (he’s going to go with intentionally) that he isn't wearing pants either. Clothes of any sort are clearly far from his body. Steve's mouth waters a little bit, unapologetically hungry for the split second of Billy's lower torso. Skin tanned surprisingly well for being in Hawkins for months, screen flash exposing the sharp lines of his hip bones, and then back up to his pursed lips and shiny blond hair flowing down past his strong shoulders. 

_ “Steve. I know you're opening all my shit, dumbass, so I guess I'll send you this,”  _

Billy is doing something, shifting around in his bed. 

“I don't know why you're awake, babes, but so am I and I'm glad you're up too.”

He's glad? Yeah right. He never even added him back on Snapchat. Steve isn't even sure how he was able to snap him without adding him in the first place.

Billy sticks his tongue out and poses, pompously, then makes a kissy face. “This is for you, Harrington.” He throws his head back, letting out a long sigh and smirking at the camera. “Steve, are you still awake yet? Ugh...fuck,”

Steve quickly taps through everything Billy had sent him, because  _ whatthefuckishedoing _ . Pulling his shirt up to his nose and hiding the furious blush that has spread its way across his cheeks, he snaps a quick and rather unflattering picture of himself, slapping a “gtg" as the caption and sending it.

Locking eyes with his own expression in the mirror in front of him, Steve lets out a heavy groan. “What the fuck,” he smacks his palm against his forehead. “What kind of shit-"

_ Pop _ .

_ Snapchat: from hxrgrxve _

Steve stares at his phone screen, lit up with an evil light. This snap feels like what's hopefully the end, hopefully, hopefully. Because honestly, if he was ever going to get any sleep tonight, he needs to turn the damn thing off.

And turn his his phone off too.

The picture of Billy on his screen is a vision, a taunt - he's got that fucking look on his face. There's no other way to describe it besides just  _ the _ look.  _ The  _ look Billy gives when he knows he's won. And win he has. Pierced tongue sticking out just a little bit, corners of his mouth peaked in satisfaction, thick eyebrows raised ever so slightly, and that fucking deviousness in his eyes.

_ “G’nite pretty boy” _

Death by Snapchat.

 

The way Steve is staring at Billy at practice is completely the opposite of nonchalant.  Glaring him down with curious eyes, searching for the answers to the millions of questions flooding his brain.

_ Was Billy drunk when he sent those snaps? _

_ Did he actually mean what he said? That he wanted to see me? _

_ Me, of all people? _

And most importantly:  _ What the fuck? _

There's about two months of school left, and Steve is absolutely terrified. Terrified to finish high school, terrified to have to enter the real world, but especially terrified to have no one except kids in his corner. Nancy and Jonathan are both moving away to New York after high school, and so is almost everyone else.

Moving away. To anywhere but here.

Because why would they want to stay in Hawkins? It's a lonesome and sleepy town. Has been all of Steve's life, really. Nothing has changed. And maybe that's the problem - maybe people want change and Steve doesn't. But maybe he needs it.

Steve  _ wants _ to travel. He wants to travel around the world and see big cities and explore ruins and go backpacking and have parties. He  _ yearns  _ to be normal. It's indeed a cliche dream, but a real dream nonetheless. 

“What the fuck are you starin’ at, Harrington?” Tommy, the petty and unnecessary hired muscle, is smacking his gum conspicuously. 

Steve snaps out of his daze. “What?” 

Tommy smirks and shows him his phone. His screen is a snap that he must have taken within the last few minutes. He's behind Steve, and of course, there Steve is, pictured gazing longingly at Billy.

It's Billy's fault. He looks too good sitting there in the school's shitty dugout at their equally shitty ball field. His hair is pulled back in a low ponytail, curls thick and voluminous even restrained in the hair tie. His hat is on backwards, messy bangs sticking out stupidly cute from underneath the snapback that's too big for his head. And his pale blue eyes are highlighted by the sunlight, accented by luscious dark lashes and he’s locked onto Steve.

Shit.

He's now looking directly at Steve.

Busted.

Billy raises an eyebrow. “Done gawking at me, pretty boy?” he says like a smart ass, phone in hand, snap from Tommy open.

Steve buckles. “No.”

_ Um, what? Take that back. _

Billy snickers. 

_ Did he just laugh? Is that a good laugh or a bad laugh? _

His cheeks bunch up a little when he smiles. It's such a pure smile, and even though it's short lived, it's been enough to brighten Steve's day.

“Is that so?” Billy bites down on his tongue between his teeth, and Steve shoots his eyes back to Tommy, unsure if he's headed into a quicksand pit. 

_ Dodge...or provoke? _

Provoke.

“Mhm,” Steve doesn't speak a response, instead he purses his lips into a stern expression.

“Gawk away baby, I'm living for all this attention from King Steve,”

Steve had been homecoming king, and Nancy his queen. How ironic. Billy runs his palm midair down his seated body, as if presenting an award to an audience. As if he were a prize. 

“Hargrove!” The coach calls from the diamond. “Come on now.” The clipboard in his hand is verbally assaulting the slackers on the side; For some nonexistent reason more menacing than the man himself, almost as if it were saying all of the obscenities the coach was not allowed to.

Billy stands up and turns to Steve, then to Tommy. Steve gets a strange feeling, a bizarre vibe emitting off of Billy's being. Maybe it's the look on his face - mischievous and sinister. 

Before Steve can properly react, Billy is practically lunging over to him. His touch is gentle beneath his chin, fingers tipping his head back. Brown eyes go wide as he feels Billy's lips graze his own. “For good luck, yanno?”

Tommy is cackling and the coach is screeching and the team is hollering but nothing else is as loud as Billy's voice just then.

_ Provoke him, what a funny joke. _

_ Billy didn’t need any provocation.  _

Billy winks at him and adjusts his hat, which had loosened when he’d leaned into Steve. He grabs a bat and swings it around, speed walking out to the coach. Steve doesn’t have enough willpower to close his jaw. His eyes meet Tommy, who shrugs, and Steve wants to smack the stupid grin off of his stupid freckled face. This has got to be some sort of sick prank. No way was Billy serious, he would  _ never _ sacrifice his reputation like that. Kissing him in front of the  _ entire _ baseball team? And Coach? Ridiculous. 

Steve doesn’t bother to try to hide his furious blush as he watches Billy, hitting base hit after base hit, slamming a homerun or two. He can’t keep his focus on the game, thinking of Billy’s plush, pink lips against his own. He watches him, his pants so tight they’re practically ripping at the seams. Can’t be comfortable. Bullshit. 

He hunches over and pulls his hat down, going incognito. 

Bullshit.

Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. 

 

Unlocking his car and twirling his fob around his key ring, Steve is abruptly yanked by an unknown assailant to the side of the school. He rams into the brick with quite a bit of force, head whipping up and seething. “What the fuck, dude!?”

Tommy. 

“Shut up, Harrington,” He spits. Steve opens his mouth to fire back, but Tommy responds by covering it with his dirty palm. 

Steve snaps his head back, “And I repeat: what the fuck, dude?”

“LOOK,” Tommy motions with his hand like a karate chop slicing the air. “I needa talk to you about somethin’.”

Quite frankly, Steve doesn't have time for this. He really just wants to get home. He's hungry and there's a Kid Cuisine calling his name in the fridge. He shakes his head, shoulder-checking the other boy as he passes. 

“It's about Billy.”

Steve pauses mid-stride. 

“Ha. That got your attention, huh?” 

Steve turns around and points a finger accusingly at Tommy. “Listen, Tom, I don't want to-”

“He totally likes you, Harrington.”

Steve hesitates, letting the words he’d just heard sink into his brain. “He what?”

Tommy rolls his eyes and scoffs. “He  _ likes _ you, dumbass,”

“He likes me? What the fuck is that supposed to-”

“Like, he likes you, numb nuts! He wants to suck your dick or some gay shit, I don’t know, I don’t like dick.”

Steve chokes on air. He starts laughing, but he can’t tell if it’s because Tommy is saying these things out loud or because he’s in straight up disbelief.

Tommy whips out his phone. “Look. I didn’t think you’d believe me, so here.”

He hands his cell phone over to Steve, who immediately notes his disgustingly bright green case and camouflage popsocket. Steve feels his eyes ready to bulge out of his skull from the offensive cracks all over his screen. He doesn’t get time to focus on the texts behind the broken lines before he hears a car pull up near them.

Of course.

“What the fuck are you two doing? Making out?”

Why  _ wouldn’t _ Billy be here? Riiiiight.

“Fuck,” Tommy whispers. “Is that Billy?”

Steve can’t help but make a face that is the humanization of ‘???’ because Tommy is an actual moron. Billy is getting out of his Camaro, ash at the end of his cigarette glowing as he takes a drag. He yanks the crimson scrunchie out of his hair and whips his head around to fell his curls, raising a pierced eyebrow suspiciously. He stomps over to the two of them and practically leans up against Steve, putting his hand on his hip like a middle aged mother. Steve stares at his fingernails, painted black, sticking out dramatically against the white fabric of their baseball uniform.

“Whatcha talkin’ about here, boys?”

Steve licks his bottom lip, unsure of how to explain. Tommy definitely hates him, and there’s absolutely no reason they’d be having a discussion of any sort in general, let alone by themselves in a discreet location in the corner of the school parking lot. 

The silence is deafening, the sound of traffic on the main road the only source of solace. “Are you two  _ boyfriends?” _ Billy nudges Tommy’s arm with his elbow, nearly dragging the lit end of his cigarette against his own torso in the process. “Huh?” He pokes against the freckled boy again. “Huhhhh?” Once more.

“Yes.” Steve blurts out, interrupting whatever noise Tommy just made.

Billy snorts a little, blue eyes shifting between the two of them. He lifts his grit back up to his lips, inhaling in a way that is completely impractical and most likely to prove whatever point he felt like he was going to need to make. Maybe to make himself look intimidating or some shit. “Is that so?”

That exact phrase coming from Billy is going to be the death of Steve.

_ Is that so? _

Tommy is shaking his head furiously, fear filling his face as if Billy was going to ash his cigarette right in between his eyes. “‘Course not, he’s joking. I’m no fag,”

Billy’s eye twitches a little at the slur. Steve takes a mental note of his reaction. Though it wasn’t much, it’s still something. The tiniest of upsets. Maybe he’s heard the word a lot.

_ Is he really into me? _

Steve also pays close attention to the fact that Billy and Tommy are having a conversation with their eyes, speaking in aggressive mute tones that just might be confirming Tommy’s words. Billy isn’t an idiot, he probably realises what Tommy has just told Steve. And  he’s clearly pissed. Pissed because it’s less of a twisted game if both parties are interested. He was doing pretty good, pretending like he didn’t care. And then taking a step. A single step. Kissing Steve at practice. Then tomorrow he probably would have bullied him. 

“Uh, no offense, but, I think I’m gonna peace out,” Steve mumbles, slinking around the others. 

Billy grabs his thin shoulder and turns Steve’s body towards him. He clears his throat forcefully and motions to Tommy. “Scram,” he growls, and Tommy does just that. Runs away like a coward. “What did he tell you, Harrington?” Billy’s breath smells like tobacco and bubblegum, and it’s a nauseating combination.

But Steve wants to taste it.

Billy doesn’t even let Steve answer him at all. Steve starts to open his mouth in response, but he’s cut off. “No homo, but you look so good right now, by the way.”

No homo.

Right.

“Sorry…?”

“No, it’s a good thing,” Billy pulls out a pink pack of gum, unwrapping and popping a stick in his mouth. Steve can practically picture it: Stick of bubblegum, cigarette. Stick of bubblegum, cigarette. A pattern.

“Okay,” Steve breathes, and he realises that he sounds stupid and awkward, but Billy is just  _ scary _ .

“Sorry I kissed you earlier, babes,” Billy says, corners of his mouth perking up. Steve wants to knock the smile off of his face, and he wonders how long it would take Billy to end his life if he just sucker punched him right now.

“Meh,” Steve shrugs, and it sets off a glint in Billy’s baby blues. 

“Meh? What’s that supposed to mean? Not good enough for you?” He takes a step closer, and he really didn’t  _ need _ to be any closer because fuck if he wasn’t already mere inches away. If Billy was going for the ‘No homo’ scene, this definitely was  _ not _ it.

“Mediocre at best.”

“Tch,” Billy groans, blowing a bubble. The gum expands heartily before engulfing the tip of Steve’s nose inside of it. It pops, and Steve has to keep himself from flinching as Billy Hargrove’s fucking stupid bubblegum gets all over his face. Fucking stupid. Fuck.

Steve takes a step backwards and wipes his nose, peeling the pink remnants from his skin. He frowns, wiping Billy’s taunt on his pants. He shifts his gaze to see Billy taking a selfie, because what else would be doing in this instance? 

“Whatever, Harrington. I’m gonna go now. Nice talk,  bitch,”

“Bitch,” Steve repeats, laughing to himself. “You’re hilarious.”

Billy inhales his gum this time, doing the thing where it’s almost the reverse of blowing a bubble and it’s ten times louder and ten times more annoying. “Ha,” he says fakely, plainly, monotonously.

The blond starts to walk away, ruffling his crazy hair and hiking his pants too far up his ass as he retreats to his Camaro. “No homo,” Steve whispers, eyes glued to the other boy. Billy turns around and unlocks his car, staring directly at Steve as he ducks down into the driver’s seat.

Steve pulls out his phone.

New tweet.

_ Mission status: Infiltration has been waaaaay too successful. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wellllll, here we are again. Sorry if this chapter is really shitty, I basically had no time to go over it and it's kind of still in the skeleton stage. Hopefully I can get my ass into gear for the next couple chapters and actually flesh this thing out so it continues to be good. Sorry!!
> 
> ALSO SORRY I KNOW ABSOLUTELY NOTHING ABOUT FORTNITE, I ASKED ALL MY COWORKERS SO SORRY I'M ALSO NOT 13 I DON'T KNOW HOW 13 YEAR OLDS ACT IN THE YEAR 2018 LMAO  
> Snapchat and smart phones came out when I was a sophomore in high school so, sorry, I'm clearly an old bitch. 
> 
> ALSO!!!! If there is ANYTHING You want me to tag please let me know~! This work is going to contain questionable topics, and I'm, quite frankly, unsure how to properly tag things to avoid people's triggers! I mean you *NO* harm! But please let me know because I genuinely want to help! I just don't want to over tag things that might steer people away, if that makes sense. Thanks sm!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!!! So, I actually tried to post this before but it never went through lmao rip me. I'm sorry if this is sloppy, I haven't had time to proofread this really at all sorry. Oops! Here's a modern AU that I hope isn't too terrible. I've been out of commission for too long, sorry friends. Love you all!
> 
> Some rough/general appearance ref for the boys: [here](https://billyscamar0.tumblr.com/post/172470258733/im-starting-another-fic-and-its-gonna-be-modern)  
>    
> and [here (this one is way better lmao)](https://billyscamar0.tumblr.com/post/175285143863/hey-friends-i-have-a-new-fic-out-its-pretty)  
>    
> 


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